I know that some of you out there aren’t dog owners.
Now, I’m not putting you on trial or anything here. Maybe you’ve got a reason for not being a ‘pooch pal’. Maybe you’re allergic to fur, or drool, or things that can — and do, almost constantly — lick their own asses.
Or maybe you’re a ‘cat person’. I won’t hold that against you.
(I won’t count on you for anything important, mind you, since you’ve already shown signs of mental instability by preferring felines to canines. But I won’t hold it against you, either. Much.)
Anyway, the point is, maybe there’s no slobbering, tail-wagging nincompoop in your life right now.
(Or, if you’re like Ben Affleck, maybe there is, but it’s not a dog. In which case, you have way more problems than I can help you with. I suggest you start drinking immediately, and don’t stop until you can’t remember who you are or where you live. It’s not a permanent cure, but it’ll work in an emergency. And if you’ve just realized you’re ‘like Ben Affleck’, then it’s a friggin’ emergency! Trust me on this one. Seek help.)
Okay, circling back to the point, I’m guessing there are a few of you who don’t own dogs. You may, therefore, be unaware of the various products that are available for our prized pooches to play with. Or eat, or chew on, or chase around the house. Which is a shame, frankly. And so, I’m here today to erase your ignorance in this area, and to give you just a few of the many highlights of the bits and baubles currently available on the market for our furry, slobbery friends (not named Tom Arnold… though I hear he does enjoy a mid-afternoon Snausage snack from time to time).
And so, without further blather, I bring you a partial list of Weird Shit You Could Buy for Your Dog. You know, if you had a dog. And you were clinically insane. ‘Cause I can’t imagine who else would buy this goofball crap. Anyway, enjoy.
First up, there’s ‘Dog Apparel‘. Clothes for the always-naked set. Coats for the terminally furry. And I’m not talking about big hairy Italian guys, either. I mean real dogs, and real coats. Have a look, if you don’t believe me. We’ve even got one of these contraptions ourselves. It’s like a little fuzzy sausage casing that velcros around our dog; she sticks her front feet in the ‘sleeves’, and then it just wraps around her. It’s snug. It’s warm. It’s cozy.
And it makes her look like a frigging moron. Seriously, she won’t even go outside in the damned thing.
‘No, that’s all right,’ she tells me. ‘I think I’ll just shit right here on the carpet and take the heat for that. It’s still better than putting on that stupid pooch vest. Really, I’ve made my choice, thanks so much.‘
Of course, it gets even worse. I can only speak for the vest from personal experience, but there are plenty of more ridiculous things out there. Like this hat, and this ‘charming’ ensemble, and this… this… what the fuck is this, anyway? Who comes up with this shit? Does Catbert work for these companies, or what?
(Great, now the porn phreak crowd will be all up in my bidness again, because I’ve got a reference to ‘veggie toys’ on my site. Fantastic. At least I didn’t mention ‘horny lesbians’ or ‘barely legal teasers’ anywhere near — oh. Poop.)
So, is it really a good idea to teach your dog to attack and glom onto these toys that look like food? I’m thinking not. Now, maybe I’m just being difficult, or overly cautious. Or maybe — just maybe — I own a pit bull, and I’d like to be able to hold a freaking hot dog in my hand without having to worry about the dog chomping my damned fingers in half trying to make the weiner go ‘squeaky squeaky‘.
(Which is one damned fine sexual euphemism, if I do say so myself. And I do. I’ll have to remember that one…)
What else have we got? Well, let’s see. There’s always the ‘Dog Pudding‘. That’s right, dog pudding. Pud-ding. Frozen pudding. Bill Cosby would be all moist and puckery if he knew about this.
As for me, though, I’m not so excited. Why? Well, for one, this just teeters on the edge of letting the dog eat better than I do. Seriously, if I’m nuking my frozen burritos, or popping in a TV dinner, how am I going to feel if I feed the dog a ‘healthy and delicious pudding cup’? There’s a pecking order, dammit, and I’m on top! Me! Or… um, well, really, my wife, I suppose. But I’m above the dog; that much, I’m sure of. So she’s not gonna out-eat me in my own home. No way. Peck, peck, peck, bitch. Peck.
Plus, think about where this shit would be kept. In the freezer, or perhaps the refrigerator. Now, my wife keeps pudding and yogurt of her own in there sometimes, and you can bet your ass that the first time she reaches in there for a tasty dessert and gets one of these horse-sicle cups, there would be hell to pay. And then it would be my ass. So no thanks to the ‘Dog-E-Licious’ pudding folks. I think I’ll pass.
Which brings me to my final entry in this carnival of creepy pet paraphenalia. That would be the ‘Bully Stick‘. Really, this is good. You’ll be glad you stuck around till the end.
So, as you may know, the dog chew-toy industry folks like to use every part of the cow, or horse, or pig when making treats for our best furry friends. And so it’s quite possible — easy, even — to find items like smoked cow hooves, puffed pork snouts, beef knuckles, and pig ears.
None of these, though, come close to the ‘Ewwww‘ factor of the ‘bully sticks’, or ‘bullies’. For you see — and as you may have guessed by now — real, genuine bully sticks are all-natural, non-synthetic, unadulterated bull penises, lopped off and lovingly prepared for your dog to chew. Really, I’m not kidding. You can look it up.
So what’s wrong with bringing a few cow dicks into your home for your puppy to play with? Well, let me count the ways.
First, there’s the sheer grossness of it all. This is a bull dong, for heavens’ sake! If I wanted a big ugly wang rubbed all over my carpets and floors and up against my couches, I’d do it myself, all right? I certainly don’t need a decapitated ‘bullywhacker’ lying in the middle of the living room floor for me to look at, and kick around, and accidentally step on with my bare feet. Ew, dammit — ewww!
Secondly, what the hell do you tell your friends and neighbors when they come over?
Them: Hey there — I see Fido’s got a new toy. What is that, rawhide?
You: Um… no. Not exactly.
Them: Oh. Plastic, then, maybe? It looks pretty hard.
You: Uh, unh-uh, it’s not plastic.
Them: Weird. Well, what is it? Can I have a look?
You: Erk — um, no. No — dude, don’t pick that up. It’s —
Them: Wow, it’s pretty heavy. This seems oddly familiar somehow…
You: Dude, just put it down, okay?
Them: Hey, don’t worry; I won’t break it. Hey, this smells pretty good. Has this been smoked?
You: Uh… well, I don’t really, um, know. My guess would be no, but who knows what happens out there?
Them: Wow, it’s really big, too. Man, I bet the dog loves this baby. This must taste fantastic!
You: Dude…I, uh… I’m not sure we should be friends any more, all right? Maybe you should just leave now.
You: Just… just drop the dick and walk away, man. Just walk away.
You can see the potential for unnecessary ickiness. But that’s not all. Think about what you’re doing with the thing. You’re feeding it to your dog. You’re asking your dog to consume another animal’s willy. Talk about cruelty to animals — that pretty much qualifies as a two-for-one special, if you ask me. Plus — assuming your dog is actually faithful (and dopey) enough to go along with it, now your best bud is going to be running around your house with dickbreath. Who wants that when they’re getting a big sloppy wet smooch from the pooch? It’s bad enough they lick their own ass; must we really add another creature’s reproductive organs to the mix, too?
Besides, where’s the guarantee that the neighbors will know whose trouser treasure it is on the dog’s breath, eh? You could get some very funny looks from the family down the street if they smell somebody’s Mr. Happy when the dog pants in their face, you know. Sure, you know the truth, but how discriminating are your friends’ noses, to tease apart the aroma of bull pecker from neighbor crotch? Chances are, those folks haven’t had enough experience with either — let alone both — to make the distinction.
(Unless you live in the deep South, or certain parts of San Francisco, in which case, your neighbors might well be experts. Friggin’ connoisseurs, even.)
Finally, if you’re of the male persuasion, there’s the ego factor. It’s always nice to be the, er, ‘longest golf club in the bag’, if you know what I mean. Especially in your own home. And some ot these bastards are pretty friggin’ big. No way you want to be staring down the barrel of one of those as you’re sitting down to eat dinner. Hell, I didn’t even adopt a male dog — you know, just in case — do you really think I want to have to compete with the dog’s damned chew toy? Or that I want the dog to think that those are fair game for chewing in the first place? *gulp* No way. I’ll stick to the pork snouts and cow feet, thanks. Much safer.
So now you see the ridiculous stuff I have to walk past when I’m picking up a bag of kibble for the pooch. Frightening, isn’t it? Maybe I should have just adopted the hedgehog at the pet store instead. Hmmm.Permalink | 4 Comments